


BIRDS OF A FEATHER

by Ivisite_13



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Found Family, Grab some popcorn, Male-Female Friendship, Romance, Skyrim Main Quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivisite_13/pseuds/Ivisite_13
Summary: Saoirse is a thief with a past that starts to haunt her after getting caught up in a Stormcloak raid and sent to Helgen. When word gets out that some red-head in Whiterun took a Dragon’s soul, her past begins plagues her with nightmares until she can’t take it anymore. Soon after having the worst of them, she decides to leave the foreign but enjoyable hearth-fire of Jorravskr to settle her debt in Riften and answer the Greybeards.As she gets thrown into the adventure of a lifetime, she must fight the on-going threat of dragons while also fighting her urges to flock back with the birds of her past with feathers like her own. In an ironic twist, in order to better herself and let go of her past, she must go back to where it began and grab her past by the hand and shake it.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. The Road to Helgen

"Halt, who are you?" A rough voiced rebel barked, raising his brows and his weapon as a red-headed woman approached. She didn't look the part of the usual hunter that passed through the area, herself wearing rather casual clothes for someone braving the forests of Falkreath. 

Amused but unburdened, the woman dusted her skirt off and gave the rebel a charming smile. 

"Y'know, that's no way to greet a lass. Do I look dangerous or something?" She cooed. An amused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as the rebel snorted. He was a great deal taller than herself but she was used to such things. Despite being a native of Skyrim, she was humorously shorter than her kin. 

The rebel in blue looked her up and down before grunting and lowering his weapon. In return, the woman continued, giving the rebel a small curtsy in gratitude before resting her hands on either hip.

"I'm Saoirse, if you were curious. Now, where's this camp of yours, soldier? I've been foraging all day, I can make some potions for your wounded if you'll trade me some arrows." 

The rebel gave her an odd look. It wasn't often that the average person strayed off the roads, let alone manage to make it as far as the Stormcloak camp nestled deep within the forest. 

"How did you know I had a camp- are you an Imperial?!" The man suddenly shouted, raising his weapon once again, though this time considerably closer to the red head's neck. 

"Whoa now, solider. I'm not here to fight. Do I look like much'a warrior to you? I'm just trying to get some arrows." Saoirse said, lightly pushing the drawn blade away from her neck. 

"As for knowing about your camp, the smoke risin' from the middle of no where isn't exactly keepin' your lot very well secret." She continued once the rebel retracted his sword. He kept a cautious air to him, eyeing her once more but eventually shaking his head and sighing. 

"Aye, I told them we should start it in a cave or something, but I'm just a cadet, no one listens." He sighed with a chuckle. Figuring her safe enough to bring along, he gestured her to follow him. 

Saoirse smiled at the motion and made quick to follow along, chatting the man's ear off about this and that while they trekked through the dense forest. Falkreath Hold was as beautiful as it was dangerous. Tall trees covered the land in a thick forest, letting only bits of light break through in some of the more dense areas. Everything from wolves to stray Conjurer clans made their home in the wilds of the southern forests of Skyrim and usually few strayed far from the path as a result. 

Saoirse, on the other hand, was the odd exception. Tuning her out while she rambled, the solider took a moment to try and make out what exactly the woman was. She wasn't particularly tall despite having the usual Nordic complexion but her accent is what threw him for the biggest loop. Her voice was thick with honey, more so than the typical Nord boasted, but had an odd, curious flair to it along with a certain bouncy rhythm it followed. 

"Starin' awfully hard there, rebel. If you're wonderin' about me, let me make some potions and I'll tell the lot of you a good story afterwards." She cooed, sending a playful wink his way over her shoulder. The solider scoffed slightly at the gesture, shaking it off as he walked ahead, taking the lead and entering into the camp grounds. 

"This way, Red. Alchemy stand is by the Medicine tent and the blacksmith will be awake sooner or later." He grunted, taking a spot by the fire while a few other soldiers gave the pair curious looks. 

"Ach, I know my hair is ruddy, no need to hound me about it you ol' codger! Least I still have some." She said just so, snickering at his fellow rebel's laughter at the remark. The solider in question grunted again, grumbling something that made his comrades laugh again but Saoirse let little more than the buzzing of it in the background reach her. 

Instead she focused on the task at hand. She had exactly 20 septims on her by means of handling a particularly broke Bandit after he tried to rob her and needed a lot more than that to make it to Windhelm to hop a ride to Solstheim. Skyrim might have been her home but she wasn't exactly comfortable within the reaches of the vast land. As beautiful as it was, she couldn't stop to smell the mountain flowers too long, lest her scent get the bloodhounds baying after her trail. 

Taking to her knapsack, she peeked into the tent that housed the sick and wounded, eyeing them for their conditions before turning to the brewing station and getting to work. Most just needed an good health potion or two, but a few seemed to need a disease cure, as well. While not one to take sides and not having been in Skyrim for six years prior to yesterday to care enough to, anyways, she did feel for the rebels. They were a hearty bunch with a good drive but she would prefer them to put it to better use than some war. 

Shaking the thought off, she turned her attention to the sound of the pestle drumming against the bowl she held. She wouldn't brag about her Alchemy skills, but she was more knowledgeable than the average person. She knew how to make a few good potions and a couple of good poisons for her arrows but that was about it. In this case, however, she was more than happy to put her skills to use if it meant getting arrows for free, practically. The sooner she got some arrows for her makeshift long bow, the quicker she could keep trekking north. 

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The night sky engulfed the horizon over the mountains, leaving the cozy camp and the forest cloaked in darkness save for the campfire. Once again, Skyrim would have her people behold her beauty- the stars twinkling in the dark purple hues of the night with the moons illuminated by an almost mystical light. Saoirse never felt homesick on her travels around Tamriel, but no other sky she'd seen could match the majesty of the one over Skyrim. 

While the soldiers and their general gathered around the campfire, Saoirse felt more at home near the edge of camp. Since she started traveling and working odd jobs for coin, she hadn't been one to give herself the chance to grow roots. She was a free-spirit, after all, and making roots in one place would risk getting caught up or settled down. She enjoyed a good drink and story around the local inn bar but that wasn't a permanent situation. These soldiers would be together until they died or the war ended and one was a lot more likely than the other at this point. 

"Red, come closer into camp. Can't have you attracting attention from other passerby types." The general called out, breaking her of her thoughts. The nickname seemed to have stuck within the camp, though Saoirse only partially minded. While she ended up staying a day longer than she meant to, the soldiers and the blacksmith assured her that it was worth the wait as the arrows would be made properly rather than rushed. 

"Expecting visitors, are you? Can't say I'd be surprised. This is the last place I'd want to be if I were you lot. The border is just a few days away." She called out after gathering her things. 

It was only a few days ago that she, too, found herself crossing over from the Cyrodiil. It wasn't treacherous but it was littered with irate Imperial soldiers parading about. With the opposing force so close, Saoirse struggled to understand why the rebels would dare to such a place their campsite. 

"It's the best and the worst spot. We might get raided or we might have the best vantage point, it's a 50/50 sort of thing." A woman from the fire's edge called out. She was a solider, too, though had been wounded and near dead before Saoirse showed up. Despite her disinterest in their cause, the once wounded woman seemed to favor the red head's company. 

"Terrible odds, really." Saoirse cooed as she took the spot near the woman. She hadn't bothered remembering names, not wanting to read about them dying someday, but she appreciated the Nordic hospitality. Upon joining the others, the fire side filled with loud conversations and several tankards of mead. Nords might have been cast into a negative light by most these days but they were an entertaining bunch, at least. 

As the evening dragged on and the soldiers began to switch into their watch post positions, Saoirse found herself dozing off. The journey to the border was tiring and rather than stopping for a good rest, she kept on the move. By now, with a warm fire to cozy around, she was tempted to give into the idea of a good rest. A spare sleeping bag nearby beckoned to her softly, making her eyelids heavy with it's song of comfort and warmth. Properly seduced by the idea, Saoirse let herself make her way to the sleeping bag. The forest had been quiet all day and the animals weren't running around frantically. The small bit of hunting knowledge she had would have her believe nothing dangerous was around, giving her an odd sense of safety. A skittish creature, fox-like in her habits, she would rather scurry away from danger than confront it like a wolf or bear might do. Assuring herself with one last glance around, she happily tucked herself into the sack, closing her eyes for the first time in several days and letting her body rest. 

The night remained rather quiet, with only the odd noise here or there afterwards. Things were calm in the little camp and at the climax of the prolonged comfort came the axe that split the wood on the block. 

It started suddenly, a barrage of arrows flying into the camp but soon enough a whole platoon of Imperial soldiers flooded the area, taking those that opposed out easily and grabbing anyone that might have tried to flee. Among those captured, a barely awake Saoirse struggled to catch her footing as an Imperial grabbed her by the arms and pulled her from her sleeping bag. Battle cries and curses filled the once still air while iron clashed against the steel of the Imperials. 

When she managed to get a look around, she was awestruck with horror. The small camp was completely in ruins now. A few dead soldiers littered the area but the most upsetting part was the charred remains of the tents and chests of supplies. The few that managed to run off would return eventually and the Imperial soldiers knew it. Rather than just taking the supplies for their own use, the pompous idea of burning them along with the rest of the camp would give the stragglers a good reminder of the hopelessness the Empire liked to strike into the hearts of the local rebels and rebel affiliated. It was a waste and Saoirse couldn't stand wastefulness.

"Let go of me! Do I look like a Rebel?" She cried out when the Imperial that was dragging her jerked her around towards a horse drawn cart. She wasn't particularly confident in being let go but at the very least she could toy with the Imperial for the sake of some amusement in the situation.

"Shut up." The imperial said coldly, grabbing a rope from the side of the carriage and tying her hands with it. She knew better than to struggle and didn't want to try her odds with the hoard of Imperials around. With a sigh, she glanced around once more. 

Against her better judgement, she allowed herself to stay longer than she planned. Between the scent of burning wood and shouts of opposition from the Stormcloaks brave enough to face their captures, she reminded herself to pay heed to her own experiences. A rolling stone collects no moss, after all, and in one sitting she managed to get absolutely covered in it. Another sigh escaped her throat at the thought.

With all hope of a miraculous rebel victory fading, Saoirse began to cozy up to the idea of being a prisoner. She'd been in prison only once, but escaped along with her then partner in crime. However, even that experience was at a lowly, poorly guarded city prison holding. Where ever these Imperials were going to take them, she was fairly certain it wouldn't be quite so easy to break out of. 

"Not even going to dine a lass first?" She asked as she was thrown into the cart alongside several others from the camp. The Imperial that tossed her snorted harshly. 

"Sorry to disappoint you." He cooed wickedly before beating the side of the cart. The driver heard the cue and cracked his whip, stirring the horse ahead. 

With a rough few bumps between the camp and the road, the cart was off. Where it was heading, Saoirse could only vaguely guess. From the hushed mumbling of the Imperials, she could make out a vague idea of the plan. Half way down the road, another group of Imperials would be waiting with prisoners of their own. After meeting and rearranging the prisoners, half would head further north to Solitude while the other half would head to Helgen, a nearby Imperial ran town. 

With an uncertain path ahead of her, she cursed herself silently for ever bothering to try to cut across Skyrim in the first place. With a final glance to the purple night sky above her, she contemplated her life a bit more before letting her eyes close. If she were to die, she'd at least want to die with enough energy to form a witty remark as her final words. 

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When Saoirse opened her eyes again, she was in the company of several different people than when she fell asleep hours prior. Dazed and hazy from the lackluster bit of rest, she glanced around a bit more, catching the attention of a blonde male in front of her. He looked to be about her age, give or take a year or so, but wore the familiar uniform of the Stormcloak soldiers. 

"You're finally awake." He began, his voice infamously gruff but hearty like most other Nord men. 

"You were caught up in that Imperial ambush, too, right? At the Falkreath Camp?" He continued. He seemed to be of a different cut than the soldiers from the camp, perhaps a general or something similar. 

"We were, too. Us and that thief over there." 

Next to the blonde male sat a smaller, darker haired man dawning the same clothes she was wearing. He remained quiet but noticeably flinched at being called a thief. She almost flinched at the word, too, but for reasons she could scarcely imagine the other man could understand. After a moment of silence, the dark haired thief worked himself up enough to slam his bound hands against his legs. 

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine before you all came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If not for you, I could have stolen that horse and been half-way to Hammerfell by now." He grunted, looking to Saoirse. He wasn't a particularly handsome man by any means and paled in comparison to the other men in the cart as far as size went. 

"You there. You and Me, we don't belong here." He continued, eyeing her slowly so to make her raise a brow. At the comment, she chuckled curiously and shook her head. If she only had a few hours to tell them the irony of this moment- the pure humor of her having done so much more questionable things in the past few years of traveling, only for it all to go unnoticed in favor of her trading potions for arrows at some outpost. Saving them the earful, she settled with a chortle.

"Ah, no. I probably deserve this." She said coolly, looking around the surrounding area before letting her eyes settling back on the blonde in front of her as he, too, watched her. His eyes went back and forth between her and the other male at the end of the cart. He wore more grandiose looking clothing, certainly not befitting a soldier. 

"We're all brothers and sister in binds now, thief. Might as well settle down." The blonde said. Ahead of them, one of the Imperials shouted for the lot to quiet down. The gesture earned him several sour looks, even Saoirse too tired to hold her usual sense of tact in the matter. She, too, made a sour expression, rolling her eyes and looking down at her bound hands. 

The thief tensed up at the command from the Imperial, shaking himself a bit to try and calm down. He wasn't used to being caught, Saoirse noted by his general demeanor. If he were truly a thief, he was a terrible one and even more so if he managed to get caught on horseback. Annoyed for him, she sighed as he seemed to find a new conduit for his tension. 

"What's up with him? Too good to wear the usual rebel rags?" The thief spat out. Curious, Saoirse let her eyes wander to the quiet man with a cloth tightly wrapped over his mouth. 

"Watch your tongue, thief. You're speaking to the true High King, Ulfric Stormcloak." The blonde practically growled. 

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The thief breathlessly whispered as he looked down to his feet. Dirt covered and sore, he remained quiet for a long moment. Once the horror of it all settled onto his shoulders, he looked up and towards the front of the cart. 

"If they have Ulfric of all people....by the gods, where are they taking us?" He whispered in a cracked voice. The Blonde looked to his leader and shook his head. He, too, seemed to understand what ending awaited them after the cart ride. 

"Helgen. They're taking us to Helgen. Overheard them last night." Saoirse said, breaking the silence. Her tone was ever so slightly solemn as she spoke. She had hoped for prison but with her current company being who they were, she, too, was becoming more aware of her real fate. 

"....Hey, where are you two from?" The blonde asked quietly as Helgen came into view in the distance. 

The cart remained silent after the question. Not sure what to make of it, the thief eventually gave in. 

"Why do you care?" He asked, leaning back against the cart. He'd given up any bit of restraint he had, it seemed. Deep in thought and eyes trained on his own hands, the blonde sighed softly. 

"A Nord's last thoughts ought to be of his home." 

The thief turned to look at the blonde who glanced back. Despite being caught up in a war, the people of Skyrim remained true to their roots, something Saoirse found admirable. Hospitable and strong, it wasn't hard to see why the Stormcloaks called themselves the "Sons and Daughters of Skyrim". 

"Rorikstead...I'm from Rorikstead." The thief said with a defeated sigh. The blonde seemed pleased by the answer and looked to Saoirse across from him. 

His eyes were the color of the sky and full of warmth- a handsome Nord man, Saoirse thought. He was the exact kind of person she hated to get to know and wished better for. The worst part of the war was all good people like him with a certain warmth about them getting caught up in a petty war between snobby Jarls with too much time on their hands.

"And you, Red?" He said with a bit more playfulness than he bothered to put towards the thief. Her gaze was met with an honest smile and she couldn't help but smile back. As Helgen grew closer and the chill of death began to waft in the air, Saoirse chuckled and even let the nickname slide. 

"The Rift. I'm from a farm out in the Rift." She replied, relaxing back against the cart. She let her head hang over the edge of the cart, staring up to the tree tops as they passed. With each passing moment, the overhead coverage thinned out and became less dense the closer to the city walls they got. A wretched sight, she thought. In her travels, she'd seen many cities both big and small but all paled in comparison to the beauty of nature. Walls didn't make her feel safe and going to an overly guarded fortress was the last place she would have picked to spend her time. With the end in sight, as it were, she let her mind wander while the blonde and the thief bickered more in the background. 

She really never ever put much thought on how she would die, though she liked the idea of it being ironic. Perhaps being poisoned by an arrow she made herself or by the hand of someone she trusted. A dull, undeserving death such as the one she currently faced wasn't the most interesting way to go. She'd been away from home for a long while, but she knew all too well what the natives of Skyrim favored when it came to dealing with the death sentence.

With the gates in view and the soldiers posted around it ordered to open them, the chill of the morning air suddenly seemed cooler. When the first cart passed through the gates, the moment of reckoning was truly upon her and she did her best to prepare for it. Lax about it all as she might have seemed, this wasn't exactly the ending she hoped for. 

"Sovngarde awaits..." The blonde spoke up again, his eyes pointed to the gates. Tuning back in to the company she sat with, she watched as dread settled over the thief's eyes and a misty, sullenness settled over the blonde's. She admired the blonde for his readiness for death, a true Nord never feared such a thing, after all. The thief almost seemed ready to cry, in contrast to the man next to him. It wasn't becoming of him, but what did that matter? 

At the mention of the long, sought after home for the dead, Saoirse laughed softly. In all of her years, she thought little of life after death, but knew that such a glorious place wouldn't suit a person like her. She might not have nested with the Skeevers of the world anymore, but she certainly wasn't far from them, in her mind. Letting out a sigh that caught the attention of two of the three men, Saoirse smiled rather glumly. 

"I don't think they'd let me in."


	2. The Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saoirse and company managed to escape Helgen, though her "battle tactics" leave something to be desired.

The view from the chopping block left something to be desired. Slathered with the blood of a rowdy Stormcloak that went before her, Saoirse couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. The blood didn't bother her much but the stench of the now headless body nearby mixed with the warm, metallic scent of drying blood would make even the strongest stomach weak. With the headsman staring her down, she almost considered tossing a stray prayer to one of the gods, hoping the last ditch effort would get their graces but decided against it in the end. If the gods had any interest in her or any of the other soon-to-be dead rabble, they would have shown in by now. 

With the gusto of a man well trained in his craft, the headsman lifted his axe. She caught a last glimpse around the camp before what she assumed would be a cold trek in the darkness of death. The blonde from earlier watched with a grave look on his face, tossing a glance towards his leader, the gagged man across the way. With little in the means on hope, the rabble watched on as the trial continued. 

On the word of the Captain, the headsman began to lift his weapon only to be halted by a blood curdling scream from a citizen. Soon after. the entire fortress filled with screams including the angry shouts from the Captain who drew her sword. As though by some desperate shot of luck, it seemed like the rabble might not get to meet Tsun just yet. 

"What is that?!" Her rough voice practically spat as she drew her sword. Nearby, General Tullius stared in awe atop the tower. From the block, Saoirse struggled to balance herself to get a better look around. Straining her neck as far left as she could, she cast her gaze above and gasped at the sight of a black scaled beast landing with a loud cracking a top the now damaged tower. 

It was magnificent, terrible but magnificent. Larger than anything she'd ever seen, she couldn't help but stare in amazement at it. The beast seemed aware of it, too. From atop his perch, the beast's scalding red eyes pierced through her deep blue eyes. In the chaos of it all, Saoirse almost felt as though the world stopped as the beast watched her. In a moment's notice, it opened it's great mouth in a thunderous roar that shook the very earth beneath her and filling her head with a ringing she'd never known before. 

Nearly too much to bare, she started to black out. From the depths of her soul, she felt something thundering within herself, rattling her bones and clouding her thoughts. It was overbearing and made her cheeks flush but she had little time to acknowledge it. Instead she tried to focus on the bits of her surroundings that weren't hazy. The entire sentry of men were no longer concerned of the trial at hand and were scrambling to fight off the beast that circled menacingly above. 

"Kinsman, get up! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!" A familiar voiced cried out. Straining to focus, Saoirse looked around dizzily before catching sight of the blonde male from the cart ride. They'd mentioned his name earlier during the call out, but she was admittedly tuned out of it all, favoring thoughts of last ditch efforts to escape. 

He motioned her over again, glancing around in a panicked manner above to watch for falling debris. Taking the chance, she balanced herself on her knees and used the momentum to run forward, following him as he weaved through bodies and Imperials. Bound hands or not, she was at least good at running. The short distance between the block and the goal seemed like miles in the moment of chaos but Saoirse kept up well. Her height played well into her ability to dodge and her smaller frame slid between Imperials and citizens easily. Perhaps surprised by the small woman's athleticism, the blonde let out a desperate chuckle and hurried her inside a smaller tower, not bothering to check the skies as he slammed the door shut. 

While she caught her breath and tried to shake the last bit of haziness away, the Stormcloaks around her all turned their attention to their leader, Ulfric. She'd barely noticed the tall man when she entered but given a moment to fathom the chaos at hand she couldn't help but understand all the hype. He was exactly what one might picture when you think of a Nord male. Tall, fair haired and intimidating in height and build- it was easy to see how he could command an army of rebels. 

"Jarl Ulfric, What is that thing? C-Could the legends be....be true?!" The Blonde shouted from the door. He was visibly shaken but trying to hold what little composure he had left in him in front of his leader. 

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric said coldly. He didn't seem phased at all, Saoirse thought. She didn't have the time to ponder about the rebel leader much, save for an icy, inquisitive glare that he sent her way while the blonde grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the stairs. 

"Up this way, come on, Red." He said, pulling her forward. Noting herself to be unusually quiet, though understandable seeing as she avoided death narrowly because of a dragon attack, Saoirse cleared her throat. It was a task easier said than done as the ash in the air dried out her throat more than it all ready was. 

"I didn't catch your name, Blondie. What was it again?" She managed to squeak out rather hoarsely. Ahead of her, the aforementioned "Blondie" chortled. 

"Ralof, I'm Ralof." 

"Saoirse. Hope we live long enough for it to stick."

The two shared a laugh before the chaos slipped back into the atmosphere. A glimpse out a window in the tower was a stark reminder of the inherent trouble outside the stone walls. The sky was the color of a blacksmith's forge and debris rained down like some hellish rain. As they reached the floor above, chaos thundered through the walls sending the stones crashing into the other side. The dragon's snout was semi-visible for just a moment before a breath of scalding flames shot into the new opening. Two unfortunate souls ahead of them suffered greatly at the sudden explosion but there wasn't any time to stop and think on it.

"There's no time to waste, see that Inn? Jump over through that opening. We'll follow- Go!" Ralof suddenly shouted, half pushing her before finishing the statement. Saoirse freely went along with the gesture, jumping through the air and landing on her toes. It stung for just a moment but she pushed forward. 

Her instinct to survive was strong and her mind was no longer foggy from the thundering headache or sore from the thundering in her bones. Cleared headed, she glanced around quickly and made a bee-line for a hole in the floor that led outside. If the beast was determined to destroy the small village, it was doing a grand job. Pushing forward out the hole in the wall, she crouched down low and hid behind a burnt snowberry bush, watching as a villager and a small boy trembled behind the reminants of a house. She'd gone unnoticed but was quick to step forward once an Imperial soldier ran over. He was the list-reader from earlier and seemed to have a bit more empathy for the rebels than his comrades. Safer than venturing out alone, Saoirse crept forward into view. 

"Still alive, Prisoner? Stay close and you'll stay that way." He commanded after telling the older man to watch out for the boy. Much like before, he motioned her to follow before running off ahead through the peril around them. Saoirse, too, ran off, following at a safe distance. If she managed to survive this, she would have to remember to toss a septim towards the nearest shrine. Gods or not, something was going on here.

The two ran through several burned homes, pushing past bodies that lay in the wake of wherever he was leading them. 

"Stay close to the wall!" She heard him practically scream, looking up just in time to crouch over and avoid the beast's eyes. On the wall next to them, the dragon let out another thundering roar followed by a hot breath of fire. 

"YOL TOOR SHUL" 

Perhaps the ash and the fire was getting to her but Saoirse could have swore she heard the beast say something in that moment. It paid little mind to the two below him, keeping it's eyes trained on whatever poor soul caught it's attention. Taking the moment as a chance to run, Hadvar took off again, leaving Saoirse to catch up as she could. He was the standard soldier, running with weapon drawn but Saoirse tended to do just the opposite, keeping low as she silently followed him. Had she learned nothing else from traveling with Khajiits in her childhood, she knew how to sneak around and stalk in the shadows. She wasn't a fighter and seeing all these warrior types running about doing little more than angering the beast was oddly comforting. They were just as lost as she was in this battle. 

"Stay close, Prisoner, it's just you and me!" The man shouted from ahead, his voice now straining from the smoke that plagued the settlement. Towers of smoke raised into the sky, blocking out the sun, leaving only a haze of light that filtered in sporadically.

The road to death, she remembered from her mother's stories of old, was cold like the great Northern forests that her ancestors trekked. The foot prints of those before you froze into the slush of mud and snow, leading you on your way into the deep forest. Cold but comforting, the path before her currently was nothing of the sort and gave her an odd sense of hope in surviving as a result.

"It's far too warm to be the end." She said quietly outloud. The Brunette seemed to have heard her but was chose not to reply. Running ahead, he turned his attention forward and glowered angerly. 

"Ralof, you damned traitor. Get out of my way!" He scowled to rebel ahead. The two seemed to know each other but the ties were cut long ago, based on their uniforms alone.

"We're escaping this time, you won't stop us, Hadvar." 

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" 

The two took little time to continue their hateful bickering, taking to running off in opposite directions though both looking back to Saoirse to follow. It took little hesitation to decide who to follow, though she did care enough to look Hadvar's way before running off after Ralof.

"It's nothin' personal, Hadvar! I just prefer a blonde!" She called back, shrugging sympathetically before disappearing into the tower door. The chaos was muffled inside the thick walls of this particular tower and Saoirse hoped it was a sign of good luck.

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"Not your first lock picked, is it?" Ralof said once the Torturerer and his assistant were taken care of. Curiously, Saoirse slipped past the fight, letting Ralof and his friends take care it in favor of scowering the room for useful bits and bobbles. In a stroke of luck, a knapsack that she was tempted to take but didn't was full of lockpicks and a few other knick-knacks ripe for the taking. Not one to pass up free loot, she set her eyes on the dead mage in a cage off in the corner while the rebels regrouped. When Ralof made his way over mid-pick, she knew exactly what he was thinking.

She couldn't help but smile at the question, a mischevious glint twinkling in her eyes as she turned back to Ralof after picking the Mage of any valuables and coin. It certainly wasn't her first lock picked and it wouldn't be her last, if she knew herself well enough. 

"What gave it away?" She cooed with a smile. Ralof shook his head but chuckled. He seemed to be displeased with her skill set thus far but this wasn't the time to address it. Instead he looked towards the hallway. 

"We need to keep moving. Saoirse, try to swing that sword a bit more in the future, hm?" He said, looking back towards her before leading the group further into the bowels of the keep. 

A sword, as honorable as they were thought to be, sat awkwardly in Saoirse's hand. Heavy to her and awkward to swing, she desperately waited for the chance to get her hands on a bow and some arrows. Ralof and his rabble of rebels might have been dissapointed thus far but if she had moment with a bow, she'd be sure to give them a good show. Leave the swords and shields to the warriors, she always thought.

After a few more Imperials were slain at the hands of everyone but Saoirse, much to Ralof's growing concern, a stray long bow and some arrows managed to make their way into Saoirse's hands after one of the rebels cut down an archer towards the end of the small cavern. Stopping to pick the archer clean of anything worth selling later, Saoirse smiled contently as she dropped the sword in favor of an arrow she plucked from the dead man's shoulder. 

"You can stop your grimacing now, Ralof. I've a bow so I'll be sure to show off a bit for you." Saoirse said with a cocky smile. While she fiddled with the hold of the bow and the tautness of the string, the blonde rebel scoffed, rolling his eyes. He seemed amused by the notion, having seen her fighting skills thus far. 

"We'll see, Red. Come on, lets see where this bridge goes." 

After pulling the lever that lowered the wooden bridge, the two were off, cautiously walking to the otherside. Everything seemed safe enough, but a loud cracking sound set off alarms as several lage chunks of the earth above them crashed down onto the bridge, cutting them off from the other rebels. It couldn't be helped, despite the disappointment Saoirse saw in Ralof's expression, and the two continued forward.

The cave spiraled around all about, twists and dead ends plaguing most corners. Slowly, but surely, however, the two managed to get passed it, walking into a web covered trap of sorts with it's previous victims corpses tied up nicely. Ralof was disgusted by the sight and even more so by the horde of frostbite spiders that ran towards the duo. Sighing in disgust, Ralof ran forward, swinging roughly at the beasts. Saoirse, however, smiled as she drew her bow. 

The familiar stretch on her shoulders calmed her to her very soul. Taking a breath and holding it, she took aim at the largest of the spiders and downed it in one shot, hitting it right between it's largest set of eyes. Arrow after arrow went flying afterwards, striking each target square in the center of it's head. Pleased, Saoirse waltzed casually into the opening, smiling as she passed a shocked Ralof who then watched as she picked arrows from the spiders, making sure to dip them in the vemon that leaked from their fangs before stuffing them back into her quiver. Brows raised and mouth curved into a playful smirk, Saoirse eventually turned to the rebel. 

"Shall we keep going?" The playfulness in her tone made him snort. In disbelief, he laughed breathlessly and ran forward shaking his head. 

"Full of surprises, aren't you?" He asked over his shoulder. 

"More than you could imagine." She cooed in response, making him snort again. 

After another hall like cavern, the two came across what appeared to be the edge of the cave. With freedom in sight, Ralof nearly made a run for it had it not been for the sight of a large bear putting him back in his place behind a stray cart. The gods toyed with mortals freely, as it were, but such obstacles right before the end of a journey seemed to be the worst kind of game they played. 

"I don't need to tell you to sneak about, do I? If you want to try your luck with the bear, I'll watch your back but if not I'll follow you past her." He whispered. The sight of the bear was more intimidating than the Imperials from before strangely enough but Saoirse couldn't pass up the chance to get a pelt. 

Drawing her bow, Ralof stepped back and drew his own weapon, readying it should the worst happen. The sleeping bear faced away from them, making for the initial shot and the shot afterwards to go smoothly. In it's shock, the bear had little time to react to the first arrow before being slain by the poison dipped second that struck it just moments later. With another pleased smile, Saoirse made her way over to the animal while Ralof made his way towards the otherside, watching while she once again picked everything off the bear worth taking. Using a dagger she copped off an Imperial, she cut a bit of it's pelt off, wrapping it up and tying it with a stray bit of rope she found in the area. 

When she returned to Ralof, she was met with a quizzical gaze. It seemed as though the last few bits of their adventure to freedom had the Nord male confused on his thoughts of her. 

"I'd like to think more of you than a thief, so a hunter, perhaps?"

His question struck a chord in her, and struck it harder than she expected it to. The thief from earlier mentioned the idea, too, but she was able to blow it off. This time, however, was different. Something seemed different now and the idea of this new found ally so close to the truth stirred up something inside her. 

"Ach, no. Not much of a hunter." She began, choosing to ignore the first half and focusing on answering the latter. "I suppose I'm just a survivalist of sorts- an adventurer if you would." 

He didn't seem to notice her dancing around the topic which was a breath of fresh air but even more refreshing was the light that flickered through from the opening of the cave. After what seemed like ages of rummaging around in the dark, the end was in sight. The thundering shook her head suddenly as they exited, briefly debilitating her before disappearing as suddenly as it began. Crouching low to keep from falling, Ralof tugged her behind a large rock, pointing above at the sight of the black dragon flying off overhead. 

"By the gods..." He mumbled, watching it fly off into the mists of the mountains in the distance. 

"Riverwood is nearby. I have a sister there, I'm sure she'd be happy to help." 

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"These are the standing stones, go ahead and study them. I always feel stronger around them- at least the warrior stone." He said crossing his arms. Chatty as he was, the two made good conversation on the trip to Riverwood, a small village nearby. 

She'd heard of the stones as a child, even coming across a few in her travels after running off and traveling with the Khajiit caravan in her youth. However in this particular case with a pair of eyes watching her, she felt compelled to go an observe them closer. As she approached them, a soft ringing filled her head. It was more pleasant than the thunder-like ringing from earlier and she couldn't help but be curious of it. In front of her sat the Mage stone, a stone she humorously joked probably went untouched given the local Nords disdain for magic. The warrior stone on the right of her was the most foreign to her of the trio, representing several aspects she couldn't relate to. It had a certain charm to it though and the ringing was loudest from it's corner. The last stone was her birthstone, as fitting as it might have been. The Thief stone was also likely frowned upon but more used than the Mage stone nearby. 

With a pair of eyes watching her, she couldn't help but feel the urge to reach out to one. Part of her yearned to turn towards the Thief stone, a comfortable sort of ringing filling her head as she glanced towards it but something kept her from doing so. Deep down, the thunder that rattled her bones at Helgen shook her to her core again, filling her with a warmth that she couldn't quite explain. Her cheeks flushed with color and heartbeat quickened- it was overwhelming and she wasn't sure what to make of it. Nerves, perhaps, she considered while mindlessly studying the stones again before letting her eyes wander back to the Warrior. It stood proudly against the backdrop of great mountains and forests that littered Whiterun hold. Tall and sturdy looking just as the Nords that called Skyrim home, it wasn't a surprise to see how eroded it was with use. Despite knowing herself better than to ever think to acknowledge it, she couldn't help but feel lured to it as a light whistling filled the air from a gust of wind that blew threw the circular holes in the stone tops. As though snared by some mysterious siren's song, Saoirse couldn't help but extend out her hand, staring wide eyed at the engraved stone. The whistling seemed to grow louder just as the thundering of her nerves shook her again. 

"The warrior, aye? I'm surprised....but not disappointed. That blessing will lead you to glory." Ralof's voice called out, breaking her of the trance-like state she'd fallen into. Confused, Saoirse looked to the stone and let her hand run across the jagged, cold engraving. 

"O-oh, aye..." She stuttered, trailing off while she thought back to before she zoned out. Not wanting to make a scene, she dusted her rags off and smiled. 

"How much longer until Riverwood?" She continued, hoping down form the last step of the triad, not bothering to hurry her pace so to catch up to the blonde in front. She never let herself feel rushed, let alone in the company of a man. If it were important, he would wait, she liked to say. 

"Just around this bend in the river. Gerder is probably by the mill." 

Three wolves, a few rabbits and a deer with a nice rack later, the duo could see the edge of the mill sitting on the river's edge. Never in her life had Saoirse been more relieved to see a settlement of any sort and the sooner they found his sister, the sooner she could make her way to the nearest shop to sell the pelts and daggers she picked off victims along the way. A simple woman, Saoirse knew what she liked and enjoyed nothing more than the feeling of the cold, golden coins in her hands. The coins would have to wait though as a tall woman cut them off mid-bridge with a loud gasp. 

"Ralof!?" She said in disbelief as Ralof hurried forward to embrace the woman Saoirse assumed was his sister. A sense of relief washed over the young man's face and it warmed Saoirse's heart a bit to see it. 

"Worry doesn't suit you, Ralof. This is the most handsome you've been since we left Helgen." She said playfully, nudging him with her elbow once he stepped back from the other woman. 

"And who is this? Another soldier?"

Gerder had a rough voice but it was strong and leaderly. She obviously wore the pants between herself and her husband, a hulking, fair haired man that had began to make his way over. In the distance, he waved heartily towards the group and shouted something out of earshot. 

"This is Saoirse. If not for her I don't think I'd be standing here right now."

Turning to face her, Ralof gave Saoirse a hardy pat on the back, making the smaller woman shift in her stance. Half loosing balance, she laughed light-heartedly at the gesture and shook her head.

"Ah, no. I really only kept those spider beasties off your tail while you ran off with it between your legs." 

Ralof broke into a robust laugh at the comment, Gerder and her husband joining in soon afterwards. The small family was an oddly refreshing sight. She'd traveled alone the past few years and for a moment her mind wandered to her hodge-podge family. She never thought much of her actual parents and sibling, but the caravan that took her in filled the gap that her actual family left.

"Well, what happened. What's this of Helgen?" Gerder eventually asked, settling down once Ralof took a seat on a nearby stump. At ease for the first time in what must have been days, Ralof gladly let his bones rest. 

"We were attacked..." He began, letting himself ramble on about the past day. While his family listened closely to his tale, Saoirse busied herself scowering around the area for useful plants and herbs. 

The small settlement was nestled between the base of two mountains with a grand river cutting through it, weaving in and out before falling into what sounded like a small waterfall in the distance. Perfect for herbs and mushrooms alike, Saoirse happily tucked whatever she came across into a makeshift pouch she made from the excess cloth of her roughspun tunic. Despite Ralof's warnings, she decided against taking the various armors they came across during the escape. Never fond of the restrictiveness of armor, Saoirse preferred the looseness of the cloth she woke up wearing. Not good for protection in any sense, it was perhaps a good thing she avoided fighting throughout the run. 

"You should stop by the trader, I'm sure he'll have some better clothes and a bag for you." Gerder cut in. Saoirse tuned out the trio while she picked around but jumped at the sudden acknowledgement. 

"Aye, I had hoped to make it before it got too late. I know how picky the merchant types are, the wee bastards." She said with a snicker.

"I do have a request though. Ralof says you are a traveler and if there are dragons flying about we need protection. The jarl needs to know that Riverwood is defenseless. Could you stop into Whiterun and inform him?" 

Three pairs of eyes settled onto the red head with an intensity that made Saoirse gulp. Sticky fingers aside, Saoirse was an honest enough person. Dodgy as she could be, she was at the very least reliable. Upon the request, she found herself sheepishly grinning back to the family. Jarls and large cities were the last things on her mind at the moment but she didn't have it in her to turn the plea down. Looking to the family and the small village behind them, she was reminded of a time when she wasn't alone. These people had lives and families of their own and without any other way of getting any safety precautions sent their way, she could practically feel the weight of the responsibility falling onto her shoulders. 

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After a long trek through town with the weight of having to speak to the Jarl weighing her down, Saoirse managed to find the trader and his estranged sister, both carrying on about a thief. While not concerned with the matters of their personal problems, Saoirse found herself being thrown into the fray anyways after the trader locked eyes with the long bow strapped to her back. 

"A-Are you a traveler?" He managed to stutter out after staring a bit too long. His eyes swelled with desperation and from the look on his sister's face, it would only get worse if Saoirse didn't nod her head. 

"Somethin' of the sort, I suppose." 

The response seemed to please the man, his eyes twinkling with hope now as he glanced between her and his sister. Excited at the prospect, Saoirse didn't even need to ask about what he was about to say.

"So you'll go get it then? What that...that thief stole?" 

"What would a lass get out of it?" Saoirse retorted casually. 

"B-but the item stolen is...is priceless!" He whined back, nearly throwing himself over the counter. The tone wasn't befitting a merchant but the greed certainly did. Lucky for her and unlucky for him, Saoirse could rival him. Brows raised, Saoirse let her lips curve into a cheeky smirk. 

"Oh aye? Sounds like it's worth more to keep for myself then, ya ken? I'm sure a fence would pay good money...." She started to trail off, watching the man closely as horror struck his face. The very mention of the word "fence" made his skin crawl but the idea of her keeping it was the breaking point.

The confidence that settled onto Saoirse's brow must have scared the dark haired man as desperation leaked back into his own expression. In a mild panic, he gazed between the two women again before shuffling around behind the counter. He seemed at odds with himself as he paced back and forth but eventually sighed, settling back in his original spot. His brows were knitted in frustration but a nod from his sister hammered the nail into the board. 

"No need for that- say, I have a shipment coming in tomorrow. If you get it back, my golden claw, that is, I'll give you what the shipment's worth in septims. Sound fair?" 

He practically spat at the idea of giving away money in such a manner, something Saoirse could understand, but never-the-less she agreed. With a twinkle in her eye and a smile, the red head took to emptying her pockets onto the counter. Confused, the sibling merchants exchanged looks.

"Great, you 'ave yourself a deal. Now, what'll you give me for these pelts and daggers? By the sound of it, I'll be needing to stop by the armory."

Saoirse wasted little time putting all she'd collected onto the counter, reminding herself to thank Hod for loaning her a knapsack until she could gather enough coin for her own. Full to the brim with trinkets and odds and ends, the merchant wasn't sure what to make of being on the other side of a barter for once. 

"You a merchant?" He asked, shaking his head after watching her count all the coin she'd talked him into giving her for all her wares. The sleepy town of Riverwood never saw more than the stray farmer pass through and even if someone more exciting managed to get lost in the area, they were usually easier to trick than Saoirse. 

Saoirse shook her shoulders in a playful way, putting the money into a safe holding spot before shooting the estranged man a wink. 

"I had good teachers. Anyways though..." She began, situating herself before heading towards the door. "Where exactly am I headed again?" 

"Bleak Falls Barrow. They ran off towards the Barrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proofread this time, hopefully there's less mistakes ;;

**Author's Note:**

> Writing skills are rusty but hopefully I'll grease them up and get back into writing better! Updates hopefully at least weekly, no promises but I'll try.
> 
> For reference, because even I say it wrong in my head, Saoirse is pronounced " Seer-Sha". Gaelic, am I right?


End file.
